


Birthday fic for @ladydrace

by mithrel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, M/M, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Post-Canon, Stiles is Legal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles pulls over someone completely unexpected one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday fic for @ladydrace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/gifts).



> This was started as a birthday fic for ladydrace. It's only... *looks at calendar* ...six months late? Hope you enjoy it anyway!

Stiles leaned back in his seat, stifling a yawn. He’d known he’d get all the shitty jobs at first, but he hadn’t realized just how _boring_ they’d be.

Stiles had wanted to join the Police Academy after high school. His dad had wanted him to go to college. After several screaming fights, involving phrases like “better future than I had” and “It’s my life!” they’d settled on a compromise: Stiles would get a Bachelor’s Degree in a related field, and then the Sheriff would recommend him for the Academy.

Beacon Hills didn’t have accelerated programs, but Stiles made his own, taking a full load every semester, including summer, and by busting his ass every day, managed to graduate in three years.

If he’d thought that was grueling, the Academy was even worse. They knew who he was, and seemed to come down on him harder as a result. Every time they did, there was a gleam in their eyes that seemed to say “Gonna go crying to Daddy?”

But he’d managed to graduate, and he’d never seen his dad prouder. Scott took him out to get smashed that night, and he woke up with the hangover from hell.

So now he was working his way up the ranks, knowing his dad couldn’t afford to show any favoritism. Right now he was lurking in a traffic car by the side of the road, looking for traffic violations.

And there was one now, a station wagon running a red light. Stiles groaned, flicked on his lights and pulled out onto the road.

Soccer moms. He hated soccer moms. Either they’d try to flirt their way out of a ticket (ugh), or say how “such a nice young man” would surely let them off with a warning (double ugh!)

The station wagon pulled over and Stiles grabbed his notebook, hitched up his belt, and got out of the car.

He walked up to the car, whose driver’s side window was down. “License and regi- _Derek?!_ ”

Stiles goggled at the driver, who was, indeed, Derek Hale. Stiles thought he’d left after they got rid of Kate Argent.

Derek, for his part, only raised an eyebrow. “Stiles?”

He forced himself to get his mind back on the job. “You ran a red light. I need to see your license and registration.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but handed them over. Stiles glanced at them. Current. “So when’d you get back?”

Derek shrugged. “A few weeks ago.”

“What’s with the car?”

“What about it?” Derek asked, and Stiles could swear he sounded defensive.

“Dude, you’re in a _Jetta._ ”

“It was cheap.”

Stiles handed Derek back his documents. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time.”

Derek snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Stiles hesitated, then said, “Nice to see you again, Derek.”

Derek’s eyes softened a little. “Yeah, sure,” he repeated.

***

Two days later Stiles had to subdue a belligerent DUI, and that drove the encounter with Derek out of his mind, until, when he was wading through the reams of paperwork (fucking paperwork) he heard a familiar voice from the front of the station say “Uh, is Sti- Deputy Stilinski here?”

Stiles put down the latest in his alphabet-soup of forms and hurried out to see Derek fidgeting at reception.

Violet grinned at him from behind the desk, her blue eyes twinkling. “Ya got a visitor, kid.”

Derek’s eyes flicked to meet his and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. He’d forgotten how intense Derek’s stare could be.

He managed to tear himself away after a moment, and cleared his throat. “Derek. Hey.”

“Um, so, yeah, I know you’re probably busy, so don’t feel bad if you can’t, but, um…I was wondering if you wanna get lunch?”

Stiles considered the Matterhorn of paperwork back on his desk, and gave Derek a grin. “You have no _idea_ how much I want to get lunch.”

Derek’s answering grin was blinding, and made Stiles’ heart stop again.

As they headed out, Violet called after him “Be sure to use protection!”

Stiles put a hand over his face, his ears burning.

***

They ended up at a diner, and Stiles ordered something borderline-healthy for once. He’d mostly given up on trying to make his dad eat healthy once he joined the force himself, since he’d be a hypocrite. It was a sad fact that the most portable meals were not the healthiest, and cops were always on the go.

Derek ordered a corned-beef sandwich, and they sat in awkward silence once the waitress had gone.

Finally Stiles couldn’t stand it anymore. “So why’d you come back?” he blurted.

Derek’s eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. “You don’t know?”

Stiles froze again, his thoughts zinging through _He-must-mean-no-he-can’t-mean-stop-being-stupid-but-he-said… _He coughed. “No.”__

__“Beacon Hills is my home,” Derek said, and Stiles wilted a little, his pessimism confirmed._ _

__“Oh, yeah,” Stiles said weakly. “But I mean, Erica and Boyd…your pack is gone, or nearly…”_ _

__“Is it?” Derek said softly, and this time Stiles was _sure_ he meant something._ _

__“W-well, Isaac’s still here, and Scott, and…” Stiles trailed off stupidly._ _

__“Yeah, they are,” Derek said, and seemed like he was about to say more, but he was cut off by their food arriving._ _

__He didn’t continue with what he was going to say, and Stiles cursed their waitress’ timing. Instead, they talked about where Derek went, and how Scott was doing, and what he and the others did after high school._ _

__Stiles looked at his watch as he finished his food and bit back a curse. Derek raised an eyebrow at him._ _

__“I’ve gotta go, my lunch break ends in five minutes!” he said, frantically signaling the waitress for the check. She came over immediately and took his card, but Stiles still chafed at the delay, and resolved to carry cash from now on._ _

__Derek didn’t speed on the way back, but only barely. As they pulled up to the station, Stiles, not wanting this to end, blurted, “D-do you want to get coffee sometime?”_ _

__Derek’s eyebrows indicated their confusion, but then he said, “Sure. You still have the same cell-phone number?” he asked as Stiles made to close the door._ _

__“Yeah, same number, thanks for the ride, bye!”_ _

__He hurried into the station. Violet shook her head at his tardiness, but Stiles knew she would have covered for him._ _

____

***

Stiles walked into the coffee shop, nervously. Derek wasn’t there. Granted, he was a _little_ early, so he shouldn’t panic yet.

He got in line at the counter, trying not to fidget more than usual. He wasn’t a kid anymore, he _knew_ how dating went. But he didn’t know if this _was_ dating. His hasty question about getting coffee with Derek had been completely off the cuff, and Derek’s text later gave nothing away.

For all he knew, werewolves didn’t even date. Maybe they left fresh kills or household appliances on the doorstep when they were interested in someone…

The pimply kid behind the counter coughed, and Stiles realized he’d been standing at the head of the line for some time.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, medium iced latte and…” he flicked his eyes over the contents of the pastry case, “a brownie.”

“$5.03,” the barista said, and, as Stiles handed over his cash (that was one promise he’d managed to keep, anyway), “What name do I put on it?”

“Uh…Stiles.”

The barista put his brownie in a paper bag. “Be out in a sec.”

Stiles found a two-person table near the window, and waited.

In only a couple of minutes, they called his name, and Stiles rolled his eyes at the inevitable misspelling on the cup. As he sat down again, the bell on the door tinkled and Derek walked in.

He made eye contact with Stiles, then glanced at the counter, and Stiles nodded and waited for him to order.

When Derek came back, his nostrils immediately flared. “Is that chocolate?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles said, taking his brownie out of the bag.

“I should’ve gotten one of those.”

“I think it’s the last one, sorry, but, um, we could split it?”

Derek nodded, and Stiles broke the brownie into two approximate halves, handing one to Derek and then licking the frosting off his fingers. He didn’t miss Derek’s sidelong glance as he did so.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, and Derek looked relieved when his order was up and he had an excuse to stop avoiding making eye contact. Stiles wondered if this was actually a good idea.

But when he sat back down, he looked more at ease, and even leaned back in his chair a little. “So you joined the police force,” he said.

Stiles shrugged. “Yeah. Seemed like the thing to do.”

“So are you the squad-cars-and-handcuffs type of police, or the silver-and-holy-water type of police?”

Stiles snorted. “Right now I’m the paperwork-and-errand-boy type of police.”

Derek grimaced. “That sucks.”

Stiles spread his hands, then took a sip of his coffee. “I knew what I was in for when I joined.” _Mostly._ “How about you, you got a job?” He winced at how that sounded, but Derek, rather than taking offense, looked…diffident?

“Uh, yeah, actually I do,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, and when Stiles raised his eyebrows at him encouragingly, said, “I’m a carpenter.”

Stiles blinked. “Really?” It wasn’t what he’d expected, somehow.

“Yeah, there’s a surprising need for construction around here. I guess the mysterious stuff ends up damaging a lot of buildings. I got a job at a construction firm a couple weeks after I got here.”

“How long _have_ you been here?” Stiles asked, somewhat hurt that Derek hadn’t thought to try to find him when he came back. He’d climbed through the window of his dad’s house often enough that stopping by and knocking on the door shouldn’t be a problem.

“About two months,” Derek replied.

 _Two months._ Stiles’ heart sank, for no particular reason. “You have a new apartment?”

“Yeah. You do too.”

Stiles made a face at the statement, and Derek coughed and confessed. “I kinda…watched your dad’s house for awhile after I moved back into town.”

And what does it say about him that, rather than being creeped out, Stiles feels a profound sense of relief. Maybe he _hadn’t_ been reading things wrong.

Their coffee was long gone, and the brownie a few crumbs on the table, but neither of them moved to get up.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school,” Stiles blurted out, and holy _shit,_ he thought he’d gotten better at the filter thing.

“I know,” Derek said, distracting Stiles from the fact that his face was making the surrounding area several degrees hotter.

“You _know?! How_ do you know?” Stiles yelped.

Derek just rolled his eyes at him. “Werewolf, remember?”

“Then why didn’t you…?”

This time Derek snorted. “Why didn’t I make a move on the _underage son of the sheriff?_ Because there are certain parts of my body I like exactly where they are.”

Stiles couldn’t help snickering.

“Besides, you were sixteen,” Derek continued. “Sixteen-year-olds are turned on by _everything._ ”

“I was not!” Stiles retorted indignantly.

“Yeah, uh-huh, suuure.”

“I’ll _prove_ it,” Stiles said recklessly, his control going out the window again, and leaned forward to kiss Derek on the mouth.

And was almost immediately pushed away.

Stiles stared at him, incredulous, confused and humiliated. “What–?”

“You’re not underage now,” Derek said, and Stiles saw his fists were clenched on the arms of his chair.

“Uh, no…?”

“So you can give informed consent,” Derek continued.

Stiles blinked at him. “Dude, just what the fuck do you think a kiss _is?_ ”

“Informed _verbal_ consent,” Derek clarified, and Stiles gaped at him.

“Yes, yes, I consent, Jesus, what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”

Derek smiled lopsidedly at him and pulled him in.

Stiles lost track of things for awhile, his mind consisting only of _Derek _and _hot_ and _lips,_ until a pointed “A-_ hem!"_ broke in on them.

Stiles pulled back and saw one of the employees giving them a pointed look. He blushed to be caught making out in public, but Derek gave a look right back and picked up where he left off.


End file.
